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The Reluctant Dragon
Thelightsinthelittlevillagebegantogoout;buttherewerestars,andalatemoon,astheyclimbedtotheDownstogether.And,astheyturnedthelastcorneranddisappearedfromview,snatchesofanoldsongwerebornebackonthenight-breeze.Ican’tbecertainwhichofthemwassinging,butITHINKitwastheDragon!
“Hereweareatyourgate,”saidtheman,abruptly,layinghishandonit.“Good-night.Cutalonginsharp,oryou’llcatchit!”
Coulditreallybeourowngate?Yes,thereitwas,sureenough,withthefamiliarmarksonitsbottombarmadebyourfeetwhenweswungonit.
“Oh,butwaitaminute!”criedCharlotte.“Iwanttoknowaheapofthings.Didthedragonreallysettledown?Anddid—”
“Thereisn’tanymoreofthatstory,”saidtheman,kindlybutfirmly.“Atleast,notto-night.Nowbeoff!Good-bye!”
“Wonderifit’salltrue?”saidCharlotte,aswehurriedupthepath.“Soundeddreadfullylikenonsense,inparts!”
“P’rapsitstrueforallthat,”Irepliedencouragingly.
Charlotteboltedinlikearabbit,outofthecoldandthedark;butIlingeredamomentinthestill,frostyair,forabackwardglanceatthesilentwhiteworldwithout,ereIchangeditforthelandoffirelightandcushionsandlaughter.Itwasthedayforchoir-practice,andcarol-timewasathand,andabelatedmemberwaspassinghomewardsdowntheroad,singingashewent:—
“ThenSt.George:eemaderev’rence:inthestablesodim,
Oovanquishedthedragon:sofearfulandgrim
